Running Up That Hill
by Angela6257
Summary: She started violently as her phone buzzed at her. She wasn't surprised to see the text from her partner. Where r u? it said, and she wished bitterly that she knew.
1. Chapter 1

I actually dreamed the seed of this fic one night last spring. It's not the first time I've ever dreamed a story, but it is the first time I managed to get it down on paper (so to speak). It's a little darker and grittier than what I usually write, but it comes as it comes. Since this one is outside my wheelhouse, I would love to hear what you think. Feedback is much appreciated. :)

Huge thanks go out to **imahistorian**, beta extraordinaire, who helps me focus, tweak, tighten, and improve, as well as providing the occasional geographical assistance.

* * *

_She gasped for breath, an ugly choking noise that filled her ears. His hand around her throat tightened just a bit, and black dots began to dance in front of her eyes. Her fingers scrambled around his, trying to ease his hold, but his grasp was unshakeable, brutal. Final._

"_Not so sure of yourself now, are you, Agent Blye?" he hissed in her ear, his head bent towards hers in a cruel parody of a lover's stance. "You still think you can take me?"_

_She found enough air to whisper, forcing words she'd never said before through trembling lips. "Please. Please….don't."_

_His free hand began to roam over her body, squeezing and pinching. Hurting her. He loosened his hold on her neck, but she was so weakened from lack of oxygen that all she could do was lay passively back against the wall, held upright only by his grasp. She tried to lift her hands, to fight back or at least push him away, but her hands refused to obey her, and her arms hung lifelessly by her side. He grinned at her, perverse pleasure brightening his gaze._

"_I can tell you like that. Not even trying to stop me any more." He reached under her shirt, his fingernails scoring the skin of her abdomen as he pulled it up. She was filled with horror, unable to stop this from happening, to stop him. Her heart pounded dully in her ears, and she closed her eyes in denial. "Let's get down to business."_

"No!" Kensi sat straight up, her hand automatically reaching for a gun that wasn't there. Of course it wasn't there. The moonlight streaming through her open window gave proof that both hands were empty, and she was safe in the comfort of her own bedroom. But the light of the full moon also showed that her hands were trembling visibly, and she wrapped her arms around herself so she wouldn't have to see the outward signs of her inner turmoil.

"This has got to stop," she whispered to herself, trying to sound stern. "I _am_ going to get over this."

But she reached over and turned the lamp on, then sat in the meager comfort of the small circle of light for the rest of the long, long night.

She was late to work, of course, and the guys ribbed her about it as per usual. But she couldn't quite drum up an appropriate response as they teased her about a late night, a one-night stand, being hung over. Callen and Sam let it drop, thinking perhaps that she was a little off or not feeling well. She wasn't sure what they thought, to be honest, and she couldn't really bring herself to care. But she was aware that Deeks' eyes stayed on her most of the morning. Her partner was harder to fool than the other agents. She would have to be more careful with him.

So when he suggested sandwiches from Joe's for lunch, she made sure her eyes were clear as she faced him.

"I think I'm going to run home for lunch," she said. "I still have some leftovers from the weekend and I don't want them to go bad."

"Why didn't you bring it with you?" Deeks asked, eyes never leaving hers. "We always eat lunch here."

"I…guess I just forgot." She shrugged a little. "You know, I was running late this morning, and I didn't think about lunch."

He didn't say anything else, but his gaze narrowed in concern. "Kens…"

She cut in before he could finish, sure she wouldn't like whatever he was going to say. "Well, I'm going home. I'll be back after lunch."

She sighed heavily, aware she'd given herself away as she hurried towards her car. She'd successfully avoided most mealtime situations with her partner the last several days. Callen and Sam didn't notice when she just picked at her food, but Deeks was different. Deeks was watchful even when he didn't appear to be watching. Deeks would notice she spent more time using her fork to make funny shapes with her food than actually putting any of it into her mouth. Deeks would notice that by the time she'd pulled most of the stuff off her sandwich, there was very little left to eat.

And at some point, Deeks was going to successfully put two and two together and realize there was something terribly, seriously wrong with her.

But until that point, she would continue to put on a façade of having it all together. Of being all right, of being strong and powerful and _herself_. Of being Kensi.

_Hard hands reached for her in the darkness. She struck out, trying to fight him off. But her own hands were weak, ineffectual. They slid off his brawny shoulders to dangle uselessly at her sides._

"_Not so strong are you now, Agent Blye?" he whispered. He lifted one mammoth hand, slid it in a surprisingly gentle caress down the side of her cheek. She shuddered in horror, trying to turn her face away, but he grasped her chin hard enough to leave bruises, forcing her to face him. She closed her eyes then, but she couldn't shut out the sound of his hiss in her ear._

"_After all this, you're just as weak as all the rest. Just a woman, like the others." His hand slid down from her face, over her breast and torso, seeking the soft skin underneath her shirt. Her skin crawled, and she tried to squirm away. But his grasp was inescapable. Rough hands scratched as he pulled her shirt up. She reached out blindly, trying to find a weapon, anything to stop him…_

And she woke herself up as her grasping hand knocked over the floor lamp behind her couch.

Lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with her. She shook her head, trying to wake herself up, but a persistent fog seemed to envelop her mind, forcing her thoughts to circle around and around. She couldn't keep this up. She couldn't keep trying to function like this. Someone was going to figure it out. Deeks was going to…

But the thought of her partner finally broke through, and she pushed her body to stand. That helped a little, maybe. She'd already known she wasn't going to be able to eat. Eating had become more of a chore than a pleasure, and sometimes her throat closed up and she couldn't force the smallest bite down. She'd lost a few pounds already, and her favorite jeans were looser than she'd liked. But even so, she'd known coming home today that it was one of those days when she just couldn't swallow so much as a crumb.

She'd thought to relax, catch up on a little reality tv instead of trying to force down food. But as soon as she'd sat down on the couch, she'd felt fuzzy, unnaturally calm, and she'd slipped into slumber within minutes despite her best efforts to stay awake. She'd known. Known exactly what was waiting for her when she couldn't keep it at bay. Fear had become a familiar companion, and not just because of the nightmares that persisted every time she closed her eyes. She feared what she was, and what she'd become if she couldn't kick this. If she couldn't control it, couldn't get past it, couldn't fight her way through it, then this…this _thing_, this fear, this specter from the past was going to mean she couldn't do her job anymore.

And if she couldn't do her job anymore, she feared she was going to become nothing at all.

She started violently as her phone buzzed at her. She wasn't surprised to see the text from her partner.

_Where r u?_ it said, and she wished bitterly that she knew.

With another deep sigh, she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to orient herself in the here and now before making her way back to OSP where she knew she'd spend another afternoon trying to disguise what she was and what she'd become from her partner.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for the lovely reviews and alerts! Special thanks to my beta extrordinaire, **imahistorian**, who always manages to say exactly the right thing, and whose pointing-out skills are nothing short of spectacular._

* * *

The late afternoon sun shone through the stained glass windows left intact from another era in the upper reaches of the old mission's walls, but not even that could alleviate the chill Kensi felt seeping into her bones. Being with her team helped, certainly. While she was with them she could pretend, usually. She could act like nothing was wrong, and she could convince the others that she was still the same more-than-capable wunderkind that Sam and Callen had trained and worked with for so many years.

Sometimes she could almost convince herself.

But other times, times like today, she knew she was flawed. Corrupted. There was a weakness in the foundation now, a tiny fissure that threatened to give way and topple the entire structure into dust. She knew she was making a mistake just by being here. In a job where your life often depended on the strength and skill of the one who had your back, she was more a liability than a team member. They deserved better. Deeks deserved better. But she knew there was no place else for her to go. Without this place, without these people, she really would stumble off the edge of the world and into the blackness she knew awaited her there.

So she clung on, well past the point she should have called it quits. She arrived every morning, late more often than not due to restless hours and relentless nightmares and a lack of sleep that threatened to derail her efforts to appear normal. She worked cases and crimes, pursued leads and questioned suspects, arrested criminals and solved mysteries, and yet a part of her recognized, _knew_, that she was wandering farther and farther past the point of no return. That at some point it would all come crashing down, and there would be no way to put Humpty Dumpty together again.

And it had all started with a simple theft case. Well, as simple as any case assigned to OSP.

The Navy had developed a new, less reactive nuclear missile and sent it out for testing on a purportedly dry-docked nuclear sub that was actually performing covert missions in the Adriatic. There were small signs at first that someone was after the intelligence. A door left open, a padlocked armory cage found mysteriously unlocked, other things that were explainable but still puzzling. But the signs became more ominous. A radio that should have been disabled sending signals out that couldn't be traced. A key-strike tracking device recording someone opening computer files without proper authorization. The captain had become alarmed and had made a few phone calls, and within days Kensi and Sam had been undercover as military personnel and Deeks and Callen had become "agents afloat", although Deeks' designation as such had been questionable at best given his status as a liaison.

They'd fingered the would-be thief fairly quickly. He was surprisingly inept for a spy, although "spy" was pretty broad for what he actually was, which was a very smart man with a weakness for the craps table who was looking to score some big bucks. He had already made contact with a few interested parties, none of whom were considered friends of the US government. Kensi had sniffed him out, and she and Deeks had herded him into Callen and Sam's custody without the man even putting up much of a fight. They'd all been feeling pretty good about the collar while they waited on the Navy cruiser to come and pick them up.

Too bad none of them had realized he had a partner.

"Hey, Kens." Deeks' voice startled her, and she realized she'd been sitting there staring off into space while she relived the more pleasant memories of that case. She was glad he'd spoken when he had. If her mind had had a chance to go a few hours further into the events that had occurred on the Navy sub, she might have unknowingly revealed far too much of what was going on inside her. Her reactions these days dismayed her, her mind and body taking over and pushing her into displaying the darkness that lived behind her eyes. Her hands shook sometimes no matter how hard she worked to steady them, and her heartbeat would pick up until she was sure she'd pass out. She'd found herself unable to breathe, once to the point that dark spots danced in front of her eyes as her knees slowly buckled. Each time she felt it coming on, felt the tingling in her hands or the difficulty inhaling, she found a space to be alone, a hole to crawl into to shield her weakness much like a small animal hides to keep the predators at bay. She'd discovered nooks and crannies around the old mission that she was sure were unknown; at the very least cobwebs and dust spoke to neglect and lack of care on the part of the custodial staff.

"Kensi?" His voice was questioning now, concerned, and she forced herself to meet his gaze.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?" At her partner's question, Sam and Callen looked over at her curiously, and she smiled at them all, hoping no one could see that it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I'm fine, Deeks." She shrugged a little. "Just thinking deep thoughts."

It was an invitation, an offer extended for Deeks to pick it up and run with it. Any other time he'd have done just that, made a joke about her lack of thought or lack of depth or anything from the techno music she loved and he called brainless to her persistent love of all things reality tv. And perhaps it was a sign of just how aware he was that he didn't, that instead his eyes narrowed and lips opened to speak before he thought better of it and just gave his head a tiny shake.

"You looked like you were miles away." Deeks pushed his chair back and got to his feet. "You ready? I don't think our case is getting any younger, and McLeod ought to be arriving at the store right about now."

"Sure." Kensi hoped it was that easy, hoped that he'd let it go another day, or even another hour. But that hope was destined to be dashed as soon as they got into her car.

Maybe it was her own fault. Maybe her easy acquiescence to his request to drive did it, or maybe her inability to focus while sitting at her desk. Maybe it was the circles under her eyes or the looseness of her clothes or her old trick of pushing food around her plate which had evolved into her new tactic of avoiding sharing meals altogether. Maybe it was one of a thousand signs that something was wrong with her that pushed him into finally speaking.

Or maybe it was just her partner's innate sense of _her_, his way of knowing when to give and when to take, his uncanny ability to sense that something was seriously wrong the dozens of times she'd told him she was 'fine' when she was anything but.

"Kensi." His voice was warm as he turned sideways, his gaze concerned. "Kens, I can tell that something's not right. Please….please talk to me."

Her own voice was cold when she spoke. "There's nothing wrong, Deeks. Can we just go?" She couldn't go there, couldn't open up. Couldn't let him in to see exactly just how much _wrong_ there was inside her now. Letting any of them know would force the situation, open the door to let everything finally out like the evils escaping from inside Pandora's box. She knew keeping it all festering inside wasn't healthy, part of her knew with surety that eventually it would all boil out of her control. But for now she was still able to keep a lid on it, to maintain a semblance of control that was as necessary to her as breathing.

She _couldn't_ allow anything else. She would hold it together until she couldn't.

"Kensi, you're my partner." He sighed heavily, and she understood that this was difficult for him. "More than my partner. You mean…a lot to me, and I want to help you. I know something is bothering you, and has been bothering you for a long time." He reached out to touch her hand then and, flicked unbearably raw by his words and the gentle warmth in his touch and the agonizing weeks since she'd begun to break, she twisted her arm and grabbed his wrist, holding it so tightly that he winced.

"Hands off," she bit out, teeth all but grinding together. "Don't touch me." She let go of his hand, but to her horror she felt that burning in her nose that signaled the onset of tears. She kept her gaze steady and still, trying to stem the tide before it could begin. But Deeks read something in her eyes that caused him to pull away, both hands held aloft in the universal gesture of surrender.

"Can't you see it?" he asked softly. "This. What you're doing right now. Kens, this isn't you. This isn't your reaction. This is the something wrong, or part of it."

"What, because I don't want you touching me there's something wrong? Sounds like the biggest problem in this car may be your colossal ego." She found the strength to push it back a little, to pull the tattered cloak of her dignity around her once more. "Back off and we'll both be fine. Keep pushing and you may find yourself with more trouble than you can handle."

She watched closely as he reined it in, taking a deep breath before his shoulders loosened and his lips tightened. "Fine. We'll just….fine."

Defeated, he turned and started the car, then pulled out slowly into the afternoon traffic. She kept her gaze averted for the entire drive and turned the music up to avoid the possibility of any conversation between them.

* * *

_He smiled at her, menace in the twisted gaze of his black eyes and gap-toothed grin. _

"_NCIS," she said, hoping he didn't hear the shaking in her voice. "Hands up!"_

_But he stepped forward, ignoring the .sig she had pointed directly at his face. "You can't shoot me. You don't have the balls." His gaze dropped downward, sexual intent clear. "You….really don't have the balls." Distracted by his leering eyes and wet, full lips, she was unable to stop him when he made a swift blow to her wrist. The ensuing numbness in her fingers made it easy for him to grab her, pulling the gun out of her grasp and tossing it aside. He drew her closer then, ignoring her furious struggles and attempts to squirm away from him. She forgot everything she knew, everything she'd been taught and trained to do to protect herself and dissolved into sheer feminine distress. The struggle seemed endless, unending, and she made no progress toward freeing herself from his mammoth hands._

"_Let me go." Her voice was soft, breathy, strained. "Let me go, or I'll…"_

"_You'll what?" He caressed her face, wiping a tear away with a gentle thumb before his grip turned brutal, holding her immobile as she tried to look away. "What exactly will you do, Agent Blye?" His face moved closer, lips a breath away from hers, and she tried to struggle, tried to force herself to move, to fight, to do something. "I don't think you have much choice in what you're about to do."_

"Hey, Kens."

_But the fear was stronger than she was, and it held her in a frozen grip. She could do little more than absorb it, absorb the fact that he was going to do what he wanted to her—and what he wanted was more than clear as his free hand began to wander lower, pulling her shirt out of her pants and tugging it up._

"Kensi."

_She couldn't stop him, couldn't do anything but exist in that moment. Her breath hitched, and one brutal hand let go of her face and moved lower, closing around her slender neck. "Fight me," he whispered against her mouth. "Fight me. Make this fun." His hand tightened until she began to fight, horrified that even her own resistance was under his control. "That's it. That's better," he crooned, and she wished quite desperately that she were dead._

"Kensi!" Deeks' voice was sharp, harsh, and it finally drew her attention. She looked down at Deeks as he knelt on their suspect, a large burly man who'd barreled out from behind the counter straight at Kensi after they'd identified themselves. She'd been hurled back to another time when a burly mountain of a man had materialized out of the darkness, her mind locked into the memory until Deeks had called her out of the fog.

Her gun was out and in her hand, pointed straight at McLeod. Or, more accurately, at Deeks, who was perched on McLeod's back, holding the other man's arms behind him as the suspect struggled to free himself. Deeks had done this, had taken the man down by himself, while she'd stood there frozen in a flashback with a gun pointed at his chest. Deeks stared at her, face white and vibrating slightly with the fervor of the other man's movements. "Kensi." His voice was softer now that he'd finally gotten her attention. "Handcuffs?"

She almost dropped where she stood. It had finally happened. Her mind and body had committed the ultimate betrayal, forcing her to put Deeks in danger. Only it was so much worse than anything she'd imagined, because the danger had come from her own hand. She managed to fumble her handcuffs out, then handed them to Deeks before turning and stumbling out of the tiny convenience store where their suspect worked.

Turning her face up to the softening sunshine of the early evening sky, she struggled to catch her breath, and struggled even more to accept the fact that her life as she knew it might be over.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks as always to my wonderful friend and beta extraordinaire, **imahistorian**, aka Mel, who not only helps me tweak and finish but is the world's champion at helping motivate me to keep on writing. Also motivating are lovely, lovely alerts and reviews, which always seem to show up just when I need them to. So thank you! :)_

* * *

Kensi existed in limbo, waiting on the other shoe to drop.

She expected it, waited on it, shoulders tensing and mouth tightening every morning as she walked through the doors. Would it be Hetty, calling her over with an imperious "Miss Blye?" Or perhaps Callen, pulling her aside to end her career in private. She wasn't sure which would be worse, or which would be easier for that matter. She just knew she wasn't ready for it no matter how it was delivered.

Oh, she knew it was justified. She was perfectly aware that she deserved it, or worse. She'd put Deeks in danger, been unable to back him up. Held a gun on him without even realizing it. How could he depend on her? How could anyone? She was a walking time bomb just waiting to go off and blow up in someone's face. If she could, she'd have quit already, removing herself from the possibility of hurting someone she loved. But she couldn't quite bring herself to do it, wasn't strong enough to give in and give herself over to the nightmares that haunted her dreams and had begun stalking her in the daylight as well.

And so one day passed, then another, and she waited and waited for a well-earned consequence that never came. Deeks watched her, mostly when she wasn't looking, but she was hyperaware of him now, still caught in the moment when she'd realized she was looking at him down the barrel of her own service weapon. She knew he was keeping a close eye on her, but she wasn't quite sure why. Was he still concerned about her? Waiting on his moment to bring up the subject of what was 'wrong' with her once again? Or was it something darker, something much much worse? Was he worried that she couldn't handle the job? Worried that she'd blow it again with far more disastrous consequences?

Had he stopped trusting her to have his back?

He'd be a fool if he hadn't.

_It was the hands, mostly. Those mammoth paws that held her motionless, squeezing the breath and life out of her with a callous grip on her neck. Or sometimes they moved over her body, touching and squeezing, violating and hurting. Sometimes those hands held her in place while he did unspeakable things with lips and teeth and tongue. She was no longer sure what was real and what was not. What was memory and what was the worst that her imagination could throw at her._

_And in the end, it didn't really matter._

_She watched a hand come out of the darkness towards her with fatalistic acceptance. In better times, her passivism would have been cause for concern. It would have made her angry, pissed her the hell off. But after weeks of fighting against her own mind, of struggling to keep the specters at bay, she knew it was no use. So she sat and waited on what would not be stopped._

_Her breath hitched as he grasped her neck, caressing the long, strong arch of her throat. And then he grabbed, fingers digging in and squeezing with ruthless brutality._

"_What's the matter, Agent Blye?" His hot breath curled around her face, and she closed her eyes and tried to turn away. To turn it off. "Can't handle me anymore? C'mon, Kensi. Admit it." He leaned closer, a mere breath away. "What's really killing you is that you never could." _

"_No," she whispered, eyes pinched shut. "No, you're wrong. I can handle you. I take people like you down all the time."_

"_Do you?" He reached down, his free hand moving with insulting slowness over her slim torso before moving behind her. Then in one sudden, rough movement, he pulled her hips roughly into his own. With a choked whimper she realized she could feel his excitement with nauseating clarity. "How about you handle that. Or better yet, try to stop me." He pushed into her, the rivets in the metal wall of the sub's A2 storage room biting into her back with the ferocity of his movement. She swallowed, then swallowed again. She was trying very hard not to vomit._

"Kensi?"

She bolted upright, not aware that she'd been lounging back in her chair. Her forehead was damp with sweat and her hands were trembling uncontrollably. But that wasn't the main focus of her distress.

"Kensi, are you all right?" She turned and tried to focus on Callen's face, the concern evident in his voice. "You don't look so good."

"Yeah, you're lookin' a little green around the gills." She swung to face Sam after hearing his voice, but the movement was too much for her decidedly queasy stomach. With a muttered excuse or maybe a curse, she bolted for the ladies room, barely making it to safety before the meager contents of her breakfast made an unpleasant reappearance. She heard the door open behind her, and she couldn't keep back a soft moan, wishing whoever it was would get out and leave her to suffer in peace.

"Kensi." Deeks voice was soft, and she felt him gently pulling her hair back, holding it out of harm's way as he began to rub slow, comforting circles into her back. She gagged once more even though she was long past the emptying of her stomach, curling in on herself as her body heaved, muscles contorting painfully and hands fisted over the edge of the toilet seat. And then finally it was over. Deeks passed her a handful of carefully folded, damp paper towels. She sat back, running the makeshift washcloth over her face, but her hands were trembling so badly that water began to dot her clothing and the tile upon which she sat.

"Here. Let me." Deeks squatted down next to her and retrieved the wet paper towels, then began smoothing them across her features, wiping away perspiration and soothing her heated skin. Forehead, then cheeks, he even ran it gently down her nose and across the smooth line of her jaw.

"Feeling any better?"

"Maybe," whispered Kensi hoarsely. Her throat felt raw, shredded from the force of her retching. "Can you hand me some mouthwash from the shelf there?" He got up and moved to the small bookcase that had been converted to hold various feminine supplies, and she used the opportunity to lean over slightly and depress the lever that would flush the evidence of her weakness away.

"You know, you gals have the quite the set up here." Deeks tried to sound normal, but the teasing in his voice was half-hearted at best. "We don't have anything like that on the guys' side."

"That's because all you guys do is grunt and spray a little Axe around." It took some effort, but by the time Deeks turned around with an industrial-sized bottle of Scope in one hand, she had managed to pull herself to her feet. "Hardly need a full set-up for that."

"Oh, hey, I would have helped you, Kens." He quickly set the mouthwash down and hurried over, then pulled her close to his side. He gently slipped one arm around her back as he tucked the other under her elbow and began moving her slowly to the sink. "You just lean on me."

Oh, if only she really could.

At the sink, she moved both hands to prop herself against the smooth marble of the counter. "I'm okay now, Deeks." She smiled tremulously at him. "Could you give me a few?"

He was reluctant. She could see it clearly in his eyes. He didn't want to leave her while she was in distress. But she needed this. Needed to clean herself up and prepare for whatever was going to happen next. And so she resorted to something she rarely used. "_Please_, Deeks. You can wait just outside the door. I'll be out in a minute, I promise."

Slowly, uncertainly, he took one step back, then another. Then he gave in with a sigh. "Okay, Fern, I'll leave you to it." He turned to leave but paused at the door, one hand on the doorframe as he faced the hallway. "But I'm not going to just hang out in the hallway indefinitely. I won't leave you in here forever." He turned then, resolution in his gaze as he met her own. "I won't leave you."

And with that, he slipped quietly out the door.

By the time she joined him in the hallway, she felt considerably more human. Mouthwash and toothpaste had gone a long way toward eliminating the outer signs of her illness, and a few sips of water had helped settle her stomach enough that she could walk. There was little more she could do. No amount of lipstick or bronzer could mask the pallor of her face or the dark circles under her eyes, and she didn't even want to think about the state of her clothing. Jeans that had spent time on the bathroom floor and a shirt that had been way too close to the scene of the crime didn't exactly scream normality and good health.

But she pasted a bright smile on anyway, even though she knew-she _knew_-it would never fool Deeks.

He was waiting for her just outside the door. She stopped in front of him, and he reached out and laid the back of his hand across her forehead. It reminded her of something her mother would have done back in the golden time when she'd had two parents and a happy family. Back before Kensi-luck had begun to kick in, ensuring that every possibility and potential for real happiness was sure to be scuttled before it had a chance to take root. Usually by herself or her own actions.

"You don't feel warm." Deeks was clearly worried about her. After all that had happened, after all that she'd done…she shook her head, wondering how she'd ever lucked into having him as a partner. Wondering how long it would be before it was all taken away. "Could it be something you ate?"

"I don't think dry toast and orange juice could have called that up." Her voice was still a little rough, but it wasn't as painful as it had been. "Probably just some kind of stomach bug."

"Hopefully the twenty-four hour variety."

She sighed, turning to trudge down the corridor. Going home to stare at her four walls and wait for the ghosts to come wasn't an attractive option, but she knew she'd never be allowed to remain at the office if the guys believed she was sick. And it was much safer for them to believe she was sick, so home she'd go. "So I guess I'll head on out. I just don't think I can stay this afternoon"

"And I guess I'll head on out too." He laid a gentle hand on the back of her neck, caressing the nape of her neck. For the first time in weeks, she felt a tiny bit of warmth begin to trickle through the ice. "Can't have you getting all woozy on the highway."

She should have at least made a token protest. The old Kensi would have. The Kensi who was strong and fearless and confident would have laughed in Deeks' face or, more likely, punched him in the bicep for daring to suggest she was anything but perfectly capable of driving herself home. But this Kensi, the one who hadn't even been able to save herself from a single bad guy with big hands and a penchant for groping, this weak pitiful Kensi smiled tiredly and turned toward the exit, knowing Deeks was following her.

Because this Kensi knew that her days with him were numbered, and she wanted to make the most of whatever she had left.

* * *

Somehow admitting it to herself gave her some respite. She was able to relax on the drive home, floating a little as she watched the beauty of the Hollywood Hills through her window. She let her head ease back onto seat, closing her eyes as Deeks turned the volume down on her techno music then changed the station to something soft and soothing.

"Do you ever think about the future, Deeks?"

She hadn't meant to ask him that. Maybe it was because her future was uncertain. Maybe it was because she was contemplating a future without him. Maybe it was because she had too many options. Or maybe it was because she had none. She wasn't sure quite where the question came from, or what she wanted to know. But she waited on his answer just the same.

"Yes." His voice was firm, sure. "Not all the time, but sometimes."

"What do you see in your future?"

"A family. A wife, kids." He paused for a moment, and she turned her head to look at him. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped himself. After a couple of minutes, he went on, but she thought maybe it wasn't what he had originally intended to say. "Maybe a promotion. A house somewhere with a nice view of the ocean. What everyone else wants, I guess."

They were both quiet for a long moment before Kensi broke the silence.

"What do you see in my future?"

He looked away from the road for a second, eyes narrowing at her. "Kensi, why does it matter what I…."

"Just humor me, Deeks." She smirked a little, mouth pulling up at one corner, but there was no real warmth in her gaze. "What do you see happening for me out in the big blue beyond?"

"I see you settled. Happy. Busting heads and kicking criminal ass. Popping out a few ninja babies. Being your basic Super Kensi self." He was smiling when he stole a glance at her this time, but something in her gaze caused him to reach over and take her hand, loosely twining his fingers through hers. "Mostly I see you happy."

"Really?" There was a wistful tone to her voice, and his fingers tightened slightly. "Sometimes I wonder." She wanted it suddenly, wanted it quite desperately. The future that Deeks saw for her—she wanted that. She wanted to be settled, to know that some day she'd have babies and a home. Maybe not a white picket fence, but a _home_. A significant other. A dog. Maybe a scruffy mutt. She wanted all that, and not in the misty, vague 'someday' that she'd always pictured it, but soon.

But in her present state of mind, she was certain it was not for her, and probably never would be.

"Well, don't." His fingers tightened still more. "Don't wonder."

"Maybe I'm not destined for…"

"Kensi, don't," he repeated, "I know you're going through a rough patch now, but just remember, super heroes always get a happy ending. You'll get yours too. Trust me."

His voice had risen, become more intense. She thought there might have been a note of desperation there, and she regretted pulling him into her darkness. She couldn't undo the damage, not entirely, but she'd do what she could to reassure him. He didn't deserve to be saddled with her uncertainty and despair.

"You're right," she said softly, then turned to face the window once more, hiding her face from his too sharp eyes. "I'm sure you're right."

Deep inside she knew he wasn't.

* * *

For once, she slept dreamlessly, and awakened feeling, if not entirely refreshed, at least more herself than she'd felt in weeks. She smiled a little as she stretched her arms over her head, shoulder muscles loosening into warmth and comfort. Maybe, just maybe, she would make it to the other side. Maybe, just maybe, with Deeks' help she'd come out okay.

Her smile widened as she thought about her partner. He'd fixed chicken soup from a can and slathered butter on a few saltine crackers, and miraculously she'd not only kept it down but eaten every bit, appetite restored for the first time in a long time. He'd joked with her and nagged her into resting on the couch with him, and he'd watched reality tv without complaint until her eyes had begun to droop. And then he'd sent her off to nap with the assurance that he'd be there when she woke up. Knowing he was there, knowing he could chase away the bad dreams and the nightmare figure stalking her in sleep, she'd fallen asleep easily and slept through the afternoon.

She got to her feet and padded into the hallway, thinking maybe they'd have Chinese for supper. Hearing his voice, she paused just inside the doorway.

"I don't know." He had his back to her, and as she watched he raised one hand and ran it through tumbled blonde locks, shoulders tense with some untold emotion. "That seems risky, Nate. She's just so….fragile. I'm really worried." He shook his head and turned his head, and and she saw his cell phone held to his ear. With something akin to horror, she realized he was talking about her. "I don't know about trying to confront her and force the issue. Every time I've tried to talk to her she refuses to even acknowledge anything is wrong, and I'm afraid….I guess I'm afraid she's going to really lose it if I keep on pushing."

_His voice hissed in her ear, goose bumps rising along the back of her neck as the darkness closed in once again. "See. Even your partner knows. You're weak, Kensi."_

_His beefy arm suddenly wrapped around her shoulders, tugging her backwards, and fatalistically she allowed herself to be pulled into her bedroom. There was no point in fighting anymore._

Slipping into her room, she gently closed the door. She pulled a duffle bag out of her closet, then began throwing things in haphazardly, not even really aware of what she was doing. _His_ voice whispered in her ear, overlaying the muffled sounds of Deeks' voice as he continued to talk on the phone. _"Weak. You're worthless. You can't help Deeks. You can't help anyone." _Her lips tightened, and she zipped the bag up then slung it over her shoulder. _"You can't even help yourself."_

She wasn't sure where she was going, wasn't even sure _why_ she was going. But she knew she had to get out, had to escape, had to find a place to hole up and figure out what to do next. She couldn't trust Deeks to help her. Not anymore, not if he was talking to Nate about her. Some more rational part of her brain tried to protest, tried to say that Deeks was only talking about her because he cared and was worried, but survival mode had kicked in and that rational part was drowned out. She slipped out into her bathroom, then slowly inched the window up. She didn't want any squeaky window frames alerting Deeks to her departure. The screen was easy to push out, and she let it down gently then took a last look around her bedroom. With Deeks' comforting presence in her home, it had become a haven of sorts during the afternoon, but now it felt foreign. Unfriendly and hostile.

Then she eased herself out the window and dropped to the ground. Seconds later she was gone.


End file.
